Clothed Contradictions
by Kienova
Summary: She had practically accosted him when he came home ten minutes earlier, dragging him into a kiss the second he was through the door.


His hands are beneath his wife's skirt in a moment as she straddles his hips, her lips never leaving his as she kisses him furiously. Patrick can't help but grope her ass, tugging her against his erection that is rapidly filling and making itself known against her.

"You seem desperate my love," Patrick whispers, grinning against her lips. He can feel her grinding against him, rolling her hips.

"I don't know what's wrong with me today," Shelagh confesses. "I just want you so badly." She had practically accosted him when he came home ten minutes earlier, dragging him into a kiss the second he was through the door. Within moments he had been forced to sit on the sofa, the Scottish hurricane that was his wife knocking him onto the cushions before she climbed onto his lap. The logical part of him had been stunned. It wasn't that he and Shelagh weren't very physically intimate, as they were, but it was usually that they delayed their sexual activities until the sun had sunken below the horizon and they were safely ensconced in their bedroom. Today, however, it seemed that his wife couldn't wait till sunset. He slides one hand over her thigh, fingers tracing over the front of her knickers, smirking when he feels how damp the fabric already is.

"Mm, you do want this quite a lot," he remarks, nipping at her ear while sneaking his fingers into her panties, gliding them through her folds and across her clit.

"Oh," she gasps, hips bucking at the feeling as she spreads her legs a fraction further. He watches her eyes slip closed, lids and lashes covering the wide pupils, loving the power over he has over his wife in that moment. He presses his fingers down through her labia, teasing at her entrance before roughly shoving two digits inside her. She lets out a moan at the intrusion, her muscles rippling around his fingers as he starts to slowly thrust them in and out of her. The position isn't particularly comfortable for his wrist but he doesn't stop, loving the way Shelagh starts humping his hand, her clit dragging against the heel of his palm.

He crooks his fingers on the next roll of her hips, pressing against the spot insider her that makes her yell, her breath coming in pants and gasps as he keeps up the pressure. He feels the wetness between her thighs increase, sliding down his fingers, making her movements easier with the added slickness. He wants to see her break apart of his hand, but his cocks is throbbing profusely and he suddenly _needs_ to be inside her. He uses the hand that isn't fingering her to undo his trousers, hissing as the strain on his erection lessens. Shelagh moans when she feels his shaft slap against her thigh, his hand roughly pulling out of her, using the soaked digits to push her knickers aside, loving that she automatically shifts her hips up enough for his cock to move between her legs, nudging against her entrance. She grinds against him a little, panting as the head drags across her clit before she manages to line him up, sinking down on him in one fluid motion.

"She-lagh," Patrick grunts, bucking into her as she settles her hands onto his shoulders, starting to ride him. He can't help but admire the contradiction she makes. Her clothes still prim and proper on the outside, her hair still neatly pulled back. Beneath her full skirt, however, he is pushing into her with his erection, her body so aroused that their joining is quickly picking up in volume, the slick sounds echoing in the otherwise quiet flat.

"Oh God, Patrick, faster, please," she begs, her thighs aching as she lifts and lowers herself over and over again. He obeys, thrusting his hips with increasing vigour while allowing his thumb to trace frantic circles over her clit. She cries out at the stimulation, her fingers tensing on his shoulders. He can feel himself teetering on the edge, balls drawing up close to his body as he all but pistons inside her. His blood is on fire at the sounds his wife is making, her moans far more vocal than he's used to, profanities slipping from her lips.

"Come for me," he growls in her ear, feeling how she lets go almost instantly at the command, her entire body shaking as her peak crashes over her. He feels her muscles clench around his cock, dragging him over the edge, his hand leaving her centre to grab onto her thigh, holding her tightly to him as he comes. The door to the flat bangs open as the first spurt of his release floods her body, Patrick's chest seizing in panic as he hears his son's voice.

"Please tell me there's something for tea, I'm starving," Timothy says in way of greeting. Shelagh holds herself as still as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of her husband's orgasm as she turns her head towards the door. Her body is still singing with energy, nerve endings throbbing as her orgasm flows and ebbs through her. "Ugh, what are you doing?" the boy questions.

"Just having a bit of a cuddle," Shelagh answers, her voice more level than Patrick thinks it has any right to be, considering their position. He tightens his grip on her thigh in retaliation to her muscles rhythmically clinging to him, desperately trying not to cry out as the pulses of pleasure he feels racing through his body go on longer than he ever thought possible. "Why don't you go wash up and wake Angela from her nap and then I can fix you something to eat," she adds.

"All right," Timothy concedes, heading down the hall and towards the stairs, making no further comment about the position he found them in. The second they hear him thundering across the upper landing Patrick feels Shelagh start to madly grind her hips, jolting herself into another orgasm, a stilted gasp escaping her as she buries her face in his neck. He groans softly, feeling her melt into his chest.

"Do you like being a little bit of an exhibitionist my love?" he whispers into her ear, feeling her chuckle more than he hears it.

"Apparently," she giggles, breathless, as she pushed herself up and off him, careful not to stumble as she stands on trembling legs. She blushes as she has to reach up under her skirt to right her knickers, wincing at how sensitive she still is, her fingers coming away sticky with their combined release. Her eyes widen as they settle on her husband's lap, the flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck. "Darling you... you need to sort out your trousers before the children see." Glancing down he notices the damp patch surrounding his softening cock.

"Oops," he chortles, tucking himself away and grabbing a copy of the Lancet to cover himself as he escapes to the bedroom. Shelagh catches his wrist before he can leave the room, pulling him down into a rough kiss.

"Thank you," she mouths against his lips before she releases him, going to the kitchen to wash her hands and make something for the children to eat.

"Anytime my love," Patrick beams, managing to sneak up the stairs unhindered, laughing under his breath the entire time.


End file.
